Moth Flight’s Vision

She shook out her pelt. Mourning Micah again won’t change anything. He’d be proud I came here. This felt like his tree now.

The leaves rustled and Spotted Fur’s pelt showed beneath them. A moment later, he was scooting down the trunk, strips of bark clasped between his jaws. He hurried toward her. The tang of sap sent thorns of pain jabbing through her heart. It was the scent she’d smelled as Micah died.

Spotted Fur nudged her from the glade. His eyes were half closed, streaming from the pungent scent. Moth Flight led him through the woods, staying close to guide him past stray brambles and rutted earth.

As they neared the border, she scented heather and quickened her pace.

Paw steps scuffed the earth behind them. Moth Flight froze.

“Where are you going?”

A hostile mew made her turn. Nettle was staring at her across a patch of blueberries. Birch and Alder flanked him, their eyes narrowed aggressively.

Spotted Fur spat out the bark, his hackles lifting. He pushed in front of Moth Flight and faced the SkyClan cats. “She’s come to get medicine for a sick Clanmate.”

“I thought Wind Runner didn’t recognize SkyClan anymore.” There was a sneer in Nettle’s mew. “Yet you still come to steal from us.”

Moth Flight stepped forward. “We’re not stealing! We’re taking bark, not prey! Just let us go. Slate might die without it!”

Alder curled her lip. “No one is allowed to help SkyClan, but SkyClan must help you?”

“We should all help each other!” Rage pulsed beneath Moth

Flight’s pelt.

Birch tipped his head, his eyes glittering with curiosity.

“Don’t you agree with Wind Runner?”

Of course I don’t agree! Moth Flight held her tongue. She wasn’t going to betray her mother, or her Clan.

“Just pretend you haven’t seen us,” Spotted Fur reasoned. “It makes no difference to you whether we take the bark or not.”

Birch narrowed his eyes. “I’m sick of WindClan telling us what to do.”

Alder padded closer. “You’ll come back to camp with us.

And don’t try to run. Clear Sky will only send a bigger patrol to fetch you. He’ll want to know what you’re doing on our land.”

“But my Clanmate’s sick!” Moth Flight fought the urge to rake the gray-and-white she-cat’s nose.

“Let’s go with them,” Spotted Fur breathed softly in her ear.

“Don’t forget that you tried to save Clear Sky’s kit. He might be more understanding than these fox-hearts.”

Nettle glared at him. “Stop whispering and get moving.”

The SkyClan cats fell in beside them and began to herd them deeper into the forest.

Moth Flight glanced at the bark left behind on the forest floor. Its precious sap would be leaking into the earth. But, if she explained everything to Clear Sky as quickly as she could, there might be enough left to take back to Slate.

She quickened her pace.

“You seem to be in a hurry,” Alder snarled.

“I just want to sort this out and get home,” she snapped back. She spotted the bramble barrier on the slope ahead. Birch had to break into a run to duck through the gap before her.

As she emerged into the hollow, faces turned to stare.

Sparrow Fur got to her paws. Blossom blinked from the shadow of a yew.

Moth Flight’s gaze flashed toward the earth where Tiny

Branch had died last night. Leaves had been scattered over it, but dark bloodstains still showed between.

She felt suddenly weary, her paws as heavy as stone. All she wanted was to help the cats around her, but every paw step seemed to lead her into another nettle patch.

“Clear Sky’s in his den.” Alder jerked her nose across the clearing. “Spotted Fur can wait here while you speak to him.”

She steered Moth Flight up the short, steep slope and through the trees beyond. “Clear Sky?” She paused and called into the shadows.

The SkyClan leader padded slowly out.

Moth Flight blinked. Clear Sky’s eyes were hollow. His pelt was matted and slicked against his broad frame. He looked as though he’d been dragged from a river.

Star Flower followed him. Grief glistened, still fresh, in her eyes. She stared blankly at Moth Flight. “What’s she doing here?”

“We found her on our land,” Alder told the she-cat. “She was with a Clanmate.”

Clear Sky padded closer, confusion clouding his stricken gaze. “No cat is allowed on SkyClan land,” he mumbled.

“I had to come,” Moth Flight told him. “I need bark from the tree where Micah died. It’s to cure a sick Clanmate. She’s got redcough. She might die.” She waited for Clear Sky to understand. But he only stared at her.

“No cat is allowed on SkyClan land,” he repeated.

“I need the bark!” Moth Flight glared at him. “I know you’re grieving and I hate to disturb you. We don’t want to disturb you.

We just want to take the bark and go.”

“No.” Clear Sky slowly lifted his head, his gaze clearing.